


We've Been There Ten Thousand Years (Bright Shining as the Sun)

by maccabird_23



Series: Written in the Stars (Etched on Your Chest) [1]
Category: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 15:04:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6381112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maccabird_23/pseuds/maccabird_23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You dug me up and opened my coffin. I’d been awake for hours, powerless and scared. The sun was rising behind your head like a halo, and I could finally breathe. A flower always tilts to the sun, any source of light, and I don’t think I’d ever seen you in the light. You’d always been a creature of the night.<br/>***********<br/>A big thanks to Ladybuuuuugs for Chinese translation. She's the real MVP: http://stuuuuuuuupid.lofter.com/post/1def9c15_a7be264</p>
            </blockquote>





	We've Been There Ten Thousand Years (Bright Shining as the Sun)

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Tiếng Việt available: [We've Been There Ten Thousand Years (Bright Shining as the Sun)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6745390) by [kirakiraakira13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirakiraakira13/pseuds/kirakiraakira13)



 

_  
You dug me up and opened my coffin. I’d been awake for hours, powerless and scared. The sun was rising behind your head like a halo, and I could finally breathe. A flower always tilts to the sun, any source of light, and I don’t think I’d ever seen you in the light. You’d always been a creature of the night._

Bruce doesn’t know why he first did what he did. It seemed fruitless, the last gasp of a man trying to save his own humanity. He remembered Alfred’s raised eyebrow when he asked him to make it, just a small heart monitor, barely bigger than a button.

 

Martha had left the room, following Lois, tears resting on her hardened face. They were just two women mourning the same man, a lover and a son. No one noticed as Bruce approached the casket, just another weathered face paying their respects. No one noticed as his hand brushed against Clark’s chest, clipping the monitor right under his flowers pinned to his shirt.

 

Bruce took a moment, he didn’t mean to linger but he looked at the man lying in front of him. He seemed peaceful, so unlike the monster in his dreams or the alien that could end the world. He was just a man, handsome and young.

 

The hand at his shoulder was jarring, but he met Diana’s eyes with a steady gaze. She titled her head towards Clark, touching the flower delicately. Nothing got past her. Diana offered him a look, both sympathetic and scolding. Her words were like a punch to the gut.

 

“When we battled the Greeks at Troy our leader took it upon herself to fight Achilles. Penthesilea was slain at the end of his sword but an odd thing happened. Achilles gazed upon her beauty and fell in love with her instantly. He grieved for what he had lost though Penthesilea was never his. What he mourned was the idea of her, a woman, a warrior; so strong and willing to sacrifice her life for what she believed in.”

 

Bruce sucked in a breath, head bowing as he walked away from Clark’s coffin. Why should he cry for a man he’d never known? He could blame himself for Clark’s death, and that regret will never leave him but he didn’t deserve to mourn the man. That’s what his loved ones were for. “The Trojan War is a myth. There’s no known historical documents that prove Achilles or Troy ever existed.”

 

Diana led him to the Kent’s backyard. There was a long clothes-wire up ahead, laundry folded neatly next to it. A single tree rustled in the wind, a swing moving to and fro with the branch. It was empty.

 

“Four years ago a man who could fly was a myth. Last week a woman who was over a thousand years old was a myth. Some people even believe that The Batman is just a myth. We choose what we believe, Bruce. Sometimes we choose when it’s too late.” Diana touched the swing, halting its movement. “Don’t wait until it’s too late.”

_You lifted me from my coffin as if I was weightless, carrying me away from the shadows and into the light. You murmured words to me or maybe to yourself. They were soothing though I couldn’t make out the words. It was strangely calming. The world is usually so loud._

Bruce wasn’t sure if he was going to make it, Alfred in his ear telling him to retreat but three men on his back and four punching at his chest. His guns and batarangs were scattered somewhere on the floor. His knees buckled as his rib cracked, and he could barely breath but then he heard it.

 

In his ear, behind Alfred’s alarmed voice he heard it, the steady give and take of blood beating through a heart. It grew louder in his ear until his heart was beating at the same rhythm. “Alfred, what is that? What is it?” Bruce didn’t wait for Alfred to answer because he already knew.

 

He crouched deeper, drawing strength from his legs before throwing himself backwards. His two hundred plus pounds landing on the men behind him, he kicked out, reaching for the knife in his boot. He jumped to his feet, crushing the leg of one of the men as he landed. One down, eight more heavily armed men to go, and all Bruce had was a knife. He smiled to himself; it should be over rather quickly.

 

Bruce didn’t bother with changing his clothes or car, the risk of anyone seeing him overridden by his need to get to Clark. “Alfred, let Lois know. Don’t bother with Martha. She unplugs her phone at night.” He didn’t stop to give details but hastened his feet. He wouldn’t leave Clark in his grave any longer than he had to. Dawn was coming soon.

 

His feet quivered in his boots as they sunk into the dirt but he walked steadily to the freshly lain dirt, picking up a shovel on his way. Bruce should be exhausted from the fight, his rib was broken and wrist cracked. It didn’t deter him, a new spout of adrenaline filling his body, demanding his muscles work through the pain.

 

It didn’t take as long as he thought - to dig up a grave. The dirt was still fresh on his face, his cowl being thrown to the ground before he climbed into the six-foot, deep hole. The first face Clark saw shouldn’t be a mask.

 

Prying the coffin open seeped the last bit of energy out of him. When he saw Clark’s face, his chest rising steadily, he sagged against the wood and dirt. He let himself breathe with Clark.

 

His hand trembled slightly as he reached for Clark, fingers finding the back of his neck. His skin was warm, muscles knotted but soft. It took him a beat, but his grip was firm where he held Clark, along his shoulders and at the back of his knees. He held him tightly and lifted him from his grave, raising him to the ground above.

 

His muscles ached on the ascent but Bruce pushed himself out of the same dirt hole, rising to his feet, and looked down at Clark. Was he asleep? Was he in a coma? Would he wake? It didn’t matter now. Bruce lifted the unconscious man, knowing where he had to take him.

 

_The light shuttered against my face from the open window. You were driving so fast that I could barely see the landmarks we passed. They weren’t very memorable but they were important to me. It all flooded back, all my memories. That farm we just passed is where I lost my virginity. That underpass we drove under was the last place I saw my father alive. I knew where you were taking me. You were bringing me home._

 

Bruce didn’t think or worry about the sight they must make. Why would the Batman be carrying a dead man up the stairs of his mother’s farmhouse? Bruce had thrown reason and sanity out the window a long time ago. Martha had lost everything, if Bruce could give her back a piece of her heart then he would.

 

The look on Martha’s face was all Bruce needed to see, realization dawning in her eyes as she reached out for her son. Her knees buckled, and he did his best to keep them both from falling while still holding Clark in his arms.

 

She hugged her son, trying to lift him from Bruce’s arms as if he was still a child. He helped her carry Clark to the old couch in the living room. Set him gently on pillows and blankets. Martha threw herself on top of her son, her head resting on his chest. Listening to his heartbeat, she closed her eyes, letting herself cry as she held him.

 

Bruce turned away, the moment between mother and son too personal, and he didn’t deserve to see the happiness and relief. Not when he was half the reason for her sadness and pain. A hand on his arm stopped him from just leaving the room, leaving the farm and letting Martha have her son.

 

She looked up at Bruce, tears still fresh on her face, words trying to escape her mouth but none came. He didn’t wait long, enveloping the aging woman in his arms. She sagged in his embrace, and Bruce breathed her in. He wasn’t sure who needed the comfort more, her or him.

 

The moment passed, and as he was walking out the door he let himself have one last glimpse of Clark. His eyes were starting to open, rise with the sun. They were so blue in the daylight. He never saw Bruce, too lost in his mother’s arm and comfort.

 

Bruce watched from the car as Lois ran up the stairs, not stopping at the sight of him. It’s how he prefers it, to be invisible in daylight. She had more important things on her mind anyway, a fiancé that she thought was dead. He looked at the house one last time before he drove away.

 

“Alfred, have a car waiting for me at the edge of town. I can’t have anyone see me like this.” The Batman, covered with dirt and blood, driving away from Smallville. He could have fought a thousand men that night. Punished every criminal in Gotham but none of it would have felt like this. Saving Clark, after he thought all hope was lost, felt like saving his own humanity.

 

_I opened my eyes, the sun nearly blinding me but I refused to close them. I never thought I’d see the light again; hold Lois or my mother in my arms. I never thought I’d feel safe again. There was something missing, I could feel it in my lungs. You weren’t there. You raised me from the dead and I was reborn in your arms. You left, I heard the motor of your car, so much smoother than the junk my dad use to drive. How badly I wanted you there, to see you in the light._

 

 


End file.
